


Exiled

by MeganuReeves



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgardian BFFs, Banishment, Gen, Loki on Earth, No Smut, Redemption?, Revenge, Surprise Asgardian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2019-08-24 02:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16630805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganuReeves/pseuds/MeganuReeves
Summary: Spared eternity in a cell by Frigga's compassion, Loki is exiled to Midgard, only able to return to Asgard if he can find a way to redeem himself. He knows he is not the first Asgardian to be banished to Earth, but Loki will soon find that neither was Thor.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter I

Loki’s footsteps, made heavier by the weight of his manacles, echoed through the throne room. He was dressed in little more than ragged peasant clothes, but he kept his head high, defiantly meeting the Allfather’s gaze. A gaze filled with disappointment.  
“Loki…” came Frigga’s voice, still full of motherly concern.  
“Hello, Mother. Have I made you proud?” Loki sneered, determined to avoid any show of sentiment, lest Odin should exploit it.  
“Loki, please-”  
“Enough!” Frigga’s words were silenced by Odin’s command. “I will speak to the prisoner alone.”  
He cannot even bring himself to say my name, Loki thought bitterly. As if it would sully his tongue to utter it.  
He buried his rage and instead smiled with mock sincerity. Odin deserved to see just how little of Loki’s respect he had left.  
“I really don’t see what all the fuss is about,” he said, with a flippant laugh. “I went down to Midgard to rule the people of Earth as a benevolent god… Just like you.”  
“We are not gods,” Odin replied, stern but controlled. “We are born, we live, we die – just as humans do.”  
“Give or take five thousand years,” Loki corrected with a sarcastic smile.  
Odin let out a weary sigh. He had not expected any remorse from Loki, but he had hoped that perhaps, just perhaps…  
“All this because Loki desires a throne.”  
There was something in his tone that slipped past Loki’s defence and pierced his core. Something that suggested such a notion was foolish to even consider. His teeth ground together as his jaw tensed in indignation. Was he not of royal blood? Did he not deserve a throne?  
“It is my birthright,” he snarled.  
“Your birthright was to die! As a child, cast out onto a frozen rock!” Odin spat out, before regaining his composure. “If I had not taken you in, you would not be here now, to hate me.”  
“If I am for the axe, then for mercy’s sake, just swing it.” His words were light and mocking once more, but a closer look would easily betray the rage in Loki’s eyes.  
“I would have you feel the pain you have caused a hundredfold before the axe fell,” Odin told Loki, his voice distorted by disgust. “Frigga’s compassion is the only reason I have spared you that fate, and if you never atone for your actions, then you will never see her again! Living a while on Midgard made Thor worthy of his place on Asgard; Frigga hopes that in time it will do the same for you. You will learn what it is to be human, and you will redeem yourself against your past wrongs, or you will never return. You are hereby stripped of all gifts and titles ever granted you by the Aesir.”  
Loki nearly staggered, the shock of his sentence seeming to snatch away his breath and twist his stomach painfully.  
He had expected Odin to demand his life in payment for his actions, and had been prepared to give it. But this? This was humiliating, degrading. To be forced to live as a pathetic mortal, to be punished the same way as his arrogant, oafish adopted brother; this was the final insult. Odin had disowned him as his son, and yet was treating him like a child.  
“Take him to the Bifrost,” Odin commanded, refusing to look at Loki as he was dragged from the throne room, his cold gaze never leaving the king’s face.

Loki fought to maintain his composure as he was marched out to the Bifrost, the citizens of Asgard watching him intently as he passed. Some were merely curious, some fearful. Others took their chance to throw insults and curses in his face, as foul as the common and Asgardian tongues would allow.  
The disgraced prince of Asgard was almost relieved when they reached the bridge, leaving the baying crowds behind. Heimdall was awaiting them at the far side, patient and stoic as ever, as the guards finally removed Loki’s restraints.  
“I will be watching you,” the gatekeeper warned, gold eyes fixed on Loki’s face as he activated the Bifrost. “If you ever are worthy of returning, I will know.”  
And with that, he was cast gracelessly into the bright lights, and out of Asgard.

Loki had travelled on the Bifrost countless times before, but this was different; he was being buffeted about, out of control, edging towards unconsciousness as he felt himself fall violently downward. In a brief second, Loki swore he could make out an expanse of desert beneath him, and then all went black.

The trickster god awoke to a blistering heat, the wind doing little more than stirring up the dry dirt around his face. He did not know how long he had lay there, crumpled and unconscious, but a layer of dust clung to every inch of his hair and clothing. He tried to push himself to his feet, and cursed. A pain flared in his ankle and his head began to swim, black spots dancing across his vision. It took two more attempts before he was standing, unsteady on his feet. Besides his injured ankle and light-headedness, something else felt amiss. A sort of hollowness, the kind one felt when grieving. It was then that he recalled Odin’s words, and a coldness settled in the pit of his stomach.   
You are hereby stripped of all gifts and titles ever granted you by the Aesir.  
In a sudden panic, Loki concentrated and attempted his favourite trick, trying to summon an illusion in his own image. Nothing. He tried again and again, becoming exhausted with the effort of it, but his fears were confirmed; Odin had stripped him of his magic. The one thing Loki had that Thor did not, the one thing that could give him higher standing than his adopted brother – gone. But it was more than that – his magic was his connection to Frigga, the one thing that could make him feel like he was still her son, in spite of everything. And it had been taken from him.  
He let out an anguished cry as he realised he had nothing left. His family, his birthright, his home, and now his magic. Even his identity had been stripped from him – he was not Loki Odinson, he never had been, but neither would he call himself a son of Laufey. He was Loki, son of none. An outcast.  
Realising he had no other choice, Loki began stumbling through the desert, heading towards some distant hills. Perhaps he would find a Midgardian civilisation; perhaps he would die out in the desert. Loki wasn’t even sure which would be worse.

The sun was beginning to set when Loki’s legs gave way with exhaustion. He collapsed onto the dirt and lay there, still, unwilling and unable to get back up. He was only half-conscious, barely registering what was going on around him until he felt a pressure on the base of his skull, something hard and cold.  
“You make any kind of movement I haven’t told you to, and you’re dead, got it?” came a man’s voice, calm and yet threatening, and Loki came to the conclusion that he had some form of Midgardian weapon held to his head.  
“Now get up, slowly,” instructed the voice. Upon realising the crumpled figure was unable to stand, the voice issued an order and Loki was pulled to his feet.  
The owner of the voice walked round to examine Loki, and swore in surprise. He looked both incredulous and angry as he spoke into a small black box.  
“You’re going to want to get the Director in on this one – we’ve got another Asgardian out here, half dead by the look of it, and Fury won’t be happy when he finds out who it is.”  
Loki, who had been studying the man’s face, suddenly realised why he looked familiar. Half-formed memories returned to him: the great sky ship where he had first encountered the meddlesome ‘Avengers’.  
“On the floating fortress – didn’t I kill you?” he asked.  
The man met his gaze and stared him down.  
“Yeah, you did. And I’m still pretty damn pissed about it.” With that, the man brought his weapon round and struck Loki hard across the temple, sending him once more into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

Slowly coming to, Loki was greeted by the unrelenting glare of Nick Fury. A brief glance at his surroundings told Loki he was once again in a Midgardian cage, with a thick wall of glass separating him from the man who very clearly wanted him dead. This time, however, Fury looked far more suspicious than pleased to have the trickster in his custody.  
“Good, you’re awake.”   
Loki pushed himself to his feet, inhaling sharply as a sharp pain flared out from his temples. Black spots danced at the edges of his vision, and he fought the urge to abruptly lie back down.  
If Fury noticed Loki’s discomfort, he did not show it.  
“Now you can tell me what the hell you’re doing back here?” he demanded, beginning to pace back and forth. “No less than two months after we had sent you to Asgard prison, I might add.”  
“You talk as if you’re not afraid of me, but I know you better than that,” Loki redirected, realising that Fury knew nothing of his circumstances. He was not about to reveal his newfound weakness, not when he could use the Midgardian’s knowledge of his powers to his advantage. “You know how easily I could tear the life from you. Why else would you put me in here?”  
Fury scowled, his anger and impatience obvious.  
“Why. Are. You. Here?” he snarled. “If you’re not gonna tell me willingly, then-”  
“You’ll get Agent Romanoff to try her tricks on me again?”  
“No, if you’re not gonna talk then I can get Dr Banner down here to make you.”  
“Go ahead,” Loki replied, calling Fury’s bluff. In reality, the thought of encountering the green monster again made him very uneasy, and the hint of amusement in Fury’s eye suggested he could see through Loki’s pretence.  
“Alright, fine, if that’s how you wanna play it. But if you try anything funny this time round, you won’t be getting sent to Asgard again. You’ll be getting shot. Understand?”  
When he realised Loki wasn’t going to respond, Fury turned and strode off, his coat flying out behind him.

Agent Hill was watching the monitor closely when Fury arrived back on the top floor of the SHIELD base. Many of the other agents in the room averted their eyes, balking at the obvious rage seething from their Director.  
“He tried anything yet?” he asked, looming over Hill’s shoulder.  
“No, sir,” she answered, a deep frown furrowing her brows. “He’s done nothing but sit there staring into space since you left. I don’t like it sir, it feels like the helicarrier all over again.”  
“I don’t like it either,” Fury admitted, leaning forward to stare at the image of Loki on the screen in front of him. “What are you up to?” he muttered.  
As if he could hear the question, Loki turned at stared directly at the camera. Seeing that over-confident face grinning up at him from the monitor was too much for Fury’s patience. He slammed his fist down on the desk and cursed – to her credit, Agent Hill did not flinch.  
Fury began pacing again, thoughts running to and fro in his head, but was soon interrupted by the agent’s voice.  
“Oh, and sir?”  
“Yes, Hill?”  
“Coulson’s requested to be moved to a different facility, for fairly obvious reasons. He says he understands it’s not ideal, but considering what happened…”  
Fury sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.  
“Normally I’d say no, but given the circumstances… Alright, find him some work elsewhere ASAP. Now, do we have any way of contacting Thor? If anyone has a clue what the hell Loki’s doing down here, it’d be him.”  
Agent Hill quickly turned back to the terminal, typing away, until a file for Dr J. Foster appeared on her screen.  
“According to this, Dr Foster’s work is still a little way off being ready for prototypes… They say the Gatekeeper in Asgard can see and hear everything, but I wouldn’t know where to begin trying to get his attention. So unless we can do something to provoke Thor into coming here, I think we’re on our own, sir.”  
“I think provoking another god is the last thing we want to do. Just… make sure someone’s keeping an eye on Loki, and let me know if anything changes.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
Fury strode away, suppressing a growing urge to punch something. In the wake of the Battle of New York, SHIELD had been pretty busy trying to adjust to the new level of exposure for the Avengers. And now, just as everything had begun to calm down, and Fury had even been considering taking some much-needed holiday time, this had happened.  
Fury groaned, and headed to the nearest coffee machine. With this new bundle of chaos that had been dropped on SHIELD’s doorstep, he was going to need caffeine. And lots of it.

-Three Weeks Later-

Loki barely registered the fact that his fingernails were breaking the skin of his palm. His attention was overridden by the pain coursing through his body like fire, every muscle driven to spasms by the electric current being run through him. He ground his teeth together and held back the urge to cry out. He would not let the mortals think they had broken him so easily.  
Relief came so sharp and sudden it felt like a blow to the stomach. Loki’s muscles gradually ceased in their convulsions, and he drew in heavy, jagged breaths.   
“Why are you here?”  
Loki didn’t know who was asking, but he laughed through his residual pain. It had been four days since Fury had grown impatient with Loki’s silence, and ordered his people to get an answer by whatever means necessary. It was always the same question, the one Fury had snapped at him through the glass of his cell when he had first arrived. Why are you here?  
Loki was determined not to give up the answer.  
The ‘interrogations’ were painful, that much was true, but the mortals were mistaken if they thought Loki had not endured worse before. His pride, if nothing else, was what let him push through it. Loki could not admit his magic was gone, and that he had been banished to Midgard.  
“Why are you here?!” came the voice again, furious this time. Loki was vaguely aware of the hum of the machine beside him, the electricity building up for another round.  
“You think your little toys frighten me?” Loki spat. “You mortals are even more pathetic than I realised.”  
Despite his taunts, Loki tensed, bracing himself for the pain. Sure enough, it came like a shockwave, contorting his body against his will and threatening to tear a cry from his lips. He could feel the tension in every limb as the current running through him made his muscles contract, and had to fight to keep his breathing controlled. The spasms began after a few seconds, and Loki’s restraints cut into his wrists as his movements pulled them tighter and tighter. It felt as though white-hot blades were being shoved mercilessly into his skull, searing and burning and-  
The pain fell away abruptly as Loki blacked out.  
It took a few seconds for his interrogators to realise what had happened. They cut the power, and watched the muscles twitch in Loki’s otherwise limp body.  
“Alright, take him back to the cell, we’ll carry on tomorrow,” came Fury’s voice in the interrogators’ earpieces. He was watching the procedure carefully from behind a one-way mirror, growing ever more frustrated with each hour that Loki refused to break under the pain. “Next time, cut the charge sooner, we need him awake to answer questions.”  
Loki’s twitching subsided as he was carried back to his cell and left lying on the cold floor. And in his unconsciousness, memories of Asgard flitted through his mind.

Loki is younger, still a boy, sat in one of the palace courtyards. The image he’s conjured of himself, already off-coloured and translucent, flickers and is extinguished. Loki curses.  
“Don’t let your father hear you using that sort of language,” Frigga scolds him gently.  
“But it won’t work!” Loki cries in frustration, his frown deepening. “I can’t do it!”  
Frigga takes her son’s hands in her own, and smiles warmly. “Patience, Loki. It is a difficult trick to master, especially on your very first try. You just need time to focus and practice.”  
“What if I can’t do it though,” Loki says quietly, his face falling. He looks up at the sound of laughter, to see Thor and his friends traipsing back into the palace. They look worn out, their faces flushed red, and they are dragging sparring sticks along behind them. Thor notices Loki and his mother and waves playfully, smiling ear to ear. Loki waves back, but with a little less enthusiasm.  
“I bet Thor could do it. He’s better than me at fighting, and I bet he’d be better than me at this too,” Loki grumbles in childish frustration.  
Frigga laughs at Loki’s sulking, and reaches out to stroke his hair.  
“Thor’s better at fighting because he’s spent more time practicing than you, that’s all,” she tells him. “And just between you and me, you’re better at magic than I was at your age, so I know you’ll master it soon. You have a wonderful talent for it.”  
“Really?” Loki asks incredulously.  
“Really,” Frigga replies, and pulls Loki into a hug. “Come now, I think we’ve earned a rest. Do you want to try again tomorrow?”  
“Yes please!”  
Loki can’t stop smiling as he and Frigga head back inside. Her praise means the world to him, and he’s determined to prove her right about his talent. I’ll become a master of magic, he swears to himself, and mother will be so proud of me.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

Heimdall turned as he heard Thor approach. The gatekeeper’s face was pulled into a deep frown, and for a moment, Thor was gripped by fear.  
“Jane, is she-?”  
“She is safe and well,” Heimdall reassured him quickly. “It is Loki I must speak to you about.”  
Thor felt another twist in his stomach, but altogether different to the first. Loki. He did not know what to think anymore, when it came to his estranged brother. Perhaps Thor could have forgiven him for his attempt to destroy Jotunheim. He remembered watching Loki falling, remembered mourning him, and thought perhaps he had forgiven his brother, when he believed he was dead. But after what had happened on Midgard, it seemed Loki was beyond reason, beyond hope. His brother, the Loki he had grown up with, was gone. And he could not forgive the monster who had wrought such death and destruction, even if he wanted to.  
“What of him?” Thor asked steadily, pushing aside his turbulent emotions.  
“He is in the custody of the group known as SHIELD. They are submitting him to torture in an attempt to gain information. Because of his previous actions, they believe he is there of his own will, and means to make another attack on Midgard,” Heimdall explained. There was an edge to his words; he despised Loki for his actions, but he could not abide the idea of torture. “If Loki is to redeem himself as the Queen hopes, I feel that the Midgardians must know why he is there. Otherwise, I believe they will torture him until he is dead.”  
Thor paused and considered the gatekeeper’s words. He knew of SHIELD’s hatred for Loki, and he knew that they could be cruel and ruthless in their actions. After all, hadn’t Fury made not-so-veiled suggestions about torturing Loki last time he had been SHIELD’s captive?  
Regardless of what Loki had done, his punishment was not Midgard’s to decide. They had handed him over to Asgard, and his sentence had been delivered. Now, SHIELD was getting in the way.  
And then there was the sliver of foolish hope Thor held on to; that his brother could be redeemed. Thor knew that his mother would never relinquish that same hope, and so he would step in for her sake, if not Loki’s own.  
“Very well, Heimdall. I’ll send someone to talk to the Midgardians immediately.”  
“You won’t go yourself?”  
Thor gave a wry smile – the gatekeeper didn’t have to be omniscient to know the answer.  
“I can’t, Heimdall. Not this time.”

“You want me to go and plead to your Midgardians for Loki’s safety?”  
Thor regretted asking Lady Sif the moment the words were out of his mouth. She was pacing furiously, full of the same rage she usually reserved for the battlefield.  
“After all he has done, after everything he put you through, you want to protect him? He is not your brother, Thor! He never was!”  
“Please, Lady Sif, I am not asking you to beg for him. But his sentence has been set, and SHIELD cannot be allowed to get in the way. And Mother… she needs to know he has a chance.”  
Sif’s face softened as she heard the pain in Thor’s voice.  
“I know, and I’m sorry. I did not mean to be so harsh,” she apologised quickly. “It’s just that I hate Loki for what he has done to you.”  
“Regardless, Asgard will not condemn such torture,” Thor redirected, trying to remove his emotions from the argument. “While Midgardians can be courageous and intelligent and kind, some of them… you don’t know the lengths they might go to if they feel threatened.”  
Sif nodded, slowly. She had heard stories of the viciousness of certain Midgardians. All personal feelings aside, she had a duty to uphold the values and commands of Asgard and her King.  
“I will deliver the message, do not worry,” Sif promised, resting her hand lightly on Thor’s arm. She met his eyes and gave a soft smile. “But you owe me a favour,” she joked.  
“Thank you, Lady Sif. Safe journey.”

 

Agent Hill looked rather flustered as she pushed open the door to Director Fury’s office, followed by the intimidating figure of Lady Sif.  
“Sir, I’m sorry for the lack of notice, but she demanded-”  
“You are in charge of this organisation?” Sif inquired sharply, cutting Agent Hill off mid-sentence.  
“Another Asgardian? You know, every time one of you shows up, it causes nothing but trouble for us. And I’m just about done with it,” Fury complained. “What do you want?”  
“I am Lady Sif, and I come on behalf of Odin Allfather,” Sif explained, trying to quell her distaste with Fury’s flippant tone. “You are to end your interrogations of Loki, on the King’s command.”  
“Sure,” the director responded sarcastically. “Just as soon as he tells us what the hell he’s up to. Remember that Loki killed a lot of people last time he was here, so if there’s the slightest chance he’s going to try it again, I need to know.”  
Sif let out a sigh. She hated the idea of arguing for Loki’s benefit, but she had to. For Thor, she told herself. And for the Queen.  
“Loki is not here of his own choice,” she began. “It is part of his punishment for his actions against both your people and my own. At the request of his Queen, Odin Allfather has decreed that Loki is to be banished to Midgard, as Thor was before him. He shall only be allowed to return to Asgard if he finds a way to atone for his actions. He cannot do so if subjected to your torture.”  
There was a moment of silence, during which Agent Hill stared uncomprehendingly at Lady Sif. The Asgardians had sent Loki back to Earth, after he had tried to conquer it? Did they want him to finish the job?  
“When is this Odin going to realise that he can’t treat Earth as a damn time-out zone for his kids?” Fury groaned, more annoyed than angry.  
“What happens if Loki attacks our people?” Agent Hill cut in. “We can’t keep calling the Avengers together for his sake, we need them elsewhere.”  
“Loki is no longer the threat he once was,” Sif explained carefully. “You remember when Thor first arrived here, without his power? Loki is in much the same state. The Allfather has stripped all magic from him. And to be sure, our gatekeeper will be watching him at all times. If Loki harms anyone, my people will take him back to Asgard to face due punishment.”  
“’Due punishment’ is what we sent him to Asgard for in the first place,” Agent Hill retorted, unable to keep quiet in her anger. “But it seems like you care more about him than you do about our entire planet.”  
Sif paused and gave a weary sigh.  
“Believe me when I tell you I have no desire to be pleading for Loki’s sake. In my eyes, he deserves far greater punishment than he has been dealt. But that is not my decision to make, nor is it yours.” She turned back to address Fury, with all the authority she could muster. “As much as Loki has wronged your people, the matter of his punishment is Odin Allfather’s decision to make. Do I have your word that you will do as asked?”  
“Fine. Just don’t expect me to ignore what he’s done.”  
“Of course not. If you could escort me outside, I must return home. Farewell,” Sif concluded, and allowed Agent Hill to lead her from Fury’s office.

“What are we going to do with him now?” Fury asked, half to himself. He had just given the order to have Loki’s interrogations ended, and he and Agent Hill were trying to decide their next step.  
“There’s no way SHIELD’s going to be able to keep him in line, he thinks we’re all so insignificant. And you’re right about the Avengers, we’re not pulling them in for this. But we need someone to keep an eye on him, and somewhere else to put him – I don’t like him being here, not with all our assets in reach.”  
“Director…” Agent Hill began hesitantly.  
“What is it, Agent?”  
“What you said about him not listening to us because he thinks we’re insignificant; would another Asgardian be able to keep him in line, do you think?”  
“You want me to try and bring Thor down here to babysit?” asked, raising a sceptical eyebrow.  
“Not Thor, Director. The other Asgardian,” Agent Hill answered.  
Fury’s frown smoothed out as he realised what Hill was talking about. To the Agent’s credit, it was as good a plan as any he could come up with on the spot.  
“You know, I’d almost forgotten about that. Call the Denver base, have them bring her in. It’s worth a shot.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter IV

“Get up!”  
The shouted command was loud enough to wake Loki, but he only had strength enough to open his eyes. Sitting up was out of the question. Every muscle ached with yesterday’s interrogation, and his stomach was twisted with nausea. The guard delivered a sharp kick to Loki’s leg, and repeated himself.  
“What… now?” Loki asked, in the most irritated tone he could muster. He was ashamed by how weak his voice sounded.  
“There’s someone coming to collect you. You’re being moved to another facility.”  
“How delightful,” Loki spat, pointedly closing his eyes again.  
He didn’t respond to anything else the guard said, nor to the eventual sound of approaching footsteps. Two sets – the ‘someone’ collecting him and another guard, he guessed.   
“Loki?”  
The ‘someone’ was female, and clearly she recognised him. This was enough to make Loki force his head up to look at her. The familiar auburn hair and fierce expression made his stomach twist with an entirely different feeling.  
“Why is he injured?” the woman demanded when she saw the state of him. The guards faltered under her furious glare, not even attempting an explanation.  
Loki was still staring in disbelief at the woman in the doorway of his cell, a woman he hadn’t seen in a very long time. Even dressed in Midgardian clothes, she was unmistakeable.  
“Sigyn?” Loki was struggling to comprehend how she could be right there, in front of him. Breathing heavily through his pain, he managed to force out the thought that was pushing through the tumult of confusion.  
“But… I went to your funeral…” he stammered, before shock and exhaustion pulled him into the familiar embrace of unconsciousness.

Loki sits at the edge of the arena while Thor and Fandral spar. Volstagg and Hogun are nursing what will very soon be heavy bruises, but are still laughing as they watch their friends. Uninterested in their fighting, Loki practices his magic absentmindedly. An illusion of a small green serpent is twisting its way along his arm when his friend sits down beside him.  
“When are you going to stop being better than me?” Sigyn asks, gesturing to the serpent.  
“When Thor gets bored of beating things up,” Loki replies with a smile, the illusion vanishing.  
They’ve been practising magic together for decades, ever since Sigyn first came to the palace with her older sister, Sif. Although lacking Loki’s flair for illusions and tricks, Sigyn excelled in healing, and was often patching up Sif and her friends.  
“I suppose I ought to offer my help to Hogun and Volstagg,” Sigyn says, but with a sly smile that suggests she has no intention of doing so.  
“It’s their own fault for always challenging each other to their ridiculous brawls,” Loki responds.  
At that moment, Fandral is thrown backwards across the arena, landing in a crumpled heap at Loki’s feet.  
“See? Ridiculous.”  
Sigyn rolls her eyes at her friend.  
“You enjoy sparring sometimes,” she points out. “Especially when you outwit Thor with your tricks.”  
“He’s such an easy mark,” Loki laughs. “I can’t believe someone so gullible has a chance of becoming the heir to the throne of Asgard in a couple of years. Hopefully father will see some sense before then,” he adds, still smiling, but Sigyn knows he isn’t completely joking.  
“Well, I know who I would choose, if it were up to me,” she tells him, nudging his shoulder playfully.  
Loki is about to thank her when Thor’s booming voice rolls across the arena.  
“Brother! Sigyn! Will you join us? It has been a while since we’ve seen you both fight!”  
“Only if I get to fight Loki, instead of you – I want a challenge!” Sigyn calls in response, and Thor laughs good-naturedly. She turns to Loki, grinning.  
“Are you up to it?”  
Loki gets up and strides into the centre of the arena, to the cheers of Thor and the Warriors Three. Sif gives her sister an encouraging smile.  
“I’ll hold back on the magic, shall I?” Loki smirks as Sigyn takes her place opposite him. “Give you a chance?”  
“It’s your choice,” Sigyn responds. “How quickly do you want to lose?”

It’s the day before summer solstice, and Loki walks through the palace halls towards the throne room. He finds it a little unusual that his mother and father have sent for him, but he guesses they must want his help with preparations. Loki has a fondness for the summer solstice celebrations – the feasting, the music, the exchanging of gift – and though he won’t admit it, the amusement of watching his brother’s drunken antics.  
“Did you need my help?” Loki asks happily as he enters the throne room, but stops dead when he sees the expressions on his parents’ faces. His stomach twists as he realises that whatever he is about to be told cannot be good news. Odin is unable to meet Loki’s eye, a deep frown distorting his brows, and Frigga’s face is heavy with sadness. She strides forwards and takes her son’s hands in her own, and Loki can see she is holding back tears.  
“Mother…? What is it?” he asks tentatively, not truly wanting to know the answer. He braces himself for whatever might be coming, but the words still pierce him like a knife between the ribs.  
“It’s Sigyn.”  
“What happened?” Loki’s voice is hardly above a whisper, and he feels as if the weight of Mjolnir is pressing on his chest.  
“She was taken ill during the night,” Frigga begins. “The healers tried all they could, but the sickness…” The queen’s voice trails off as she seems to choke on the words.  
Loki looks to Odin and then back to his mother, searching for some sign that Frigga’s words do not mean what he thinks. He blinks, and feels tears roll down his face. He tries to speak, but the shock has rendered him voiceless. Before he can register it, Frigga’s arms are wrapped tightly around him, trying to console him.  
“Loki, I’m so sorry.”

The sounds of the summer solstice feast echo faintly from the dining halls, as Loki leans on the edge of the balcony and stares out at the sky. He has tried to join in with the festivities, but he can’t manage it. The loss of Sigyn weighs too heavily on his mind.  
Summer solstice was her favourite time of year; she always sang after the feast, and would try and get Loki to join in the dancing, with varying levels of success. It only makes her absence at the festivities even more pronounced.  
Loki looks down at the delicate crystal flower in his hand, the one he has enchanted so that the colours change with the hours of the day. Sigyn’s solstice gift. He had been so proud of it, so eager to give it to her. And now she is gone.  
“Loki?”  
He turns when he hears his name, to see Sif standing a few feet away. She smiles, but there is sadness in it, and he can tell her eyes are threatening tears.  
“Lady Sif,” he replies politely.  
“May I join you?”  
“Of course.”  
Sif is silent for a few moments, stood next to Loki on the balcony. Her hands are toying with a roll of parchment, tied with a black ribbon.  
“It’s not right without her there, is it? It feels empty,” Sif murmurs, allowing her tears to fall freely. “I always thought of summer solstice as her festival.”  
Loki reaches out and rests his hand gently on Sif’s arm.  
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Lady Sif. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”  
“Yes you can,” Sif responds. “You care about her as much as I do. You were her best friend, I hope you know that. She would have wanted you to.”  
“Thank you,” Loki smiles. He is a little surprised by Sif’s kindness – they haven’t always seen eye to eye – but her words mean a lot to him.  
Sif takes a long look at the parchment in her hands, then offers it to Loki.  
“I found it in her room this morning,” she explains. “She was going to give it to you as your solstice present.”  
Loki takes the parchment and holds up the crystal flower to show Sif.  
“This was meant to be for her. It’s enchanted, it changes colours… I thought she would like it,” he tells her, his voice catching. He holds out the flower for Sif to take, but she shakes her head.  
“I think Sigyn would have liked you to hold on to it,” she protests. “To help remember her by.”  
“You should have it.”  
“No, you keep it,” Sif insists. “I think I might return to the festivities now, but I want to thank you for being a friend to my sister. She cared for you very much.”  
“Thank you for your kindness, Lady Sif,” Loki says, giving a polite bow. “Enjoy your evening.”  
When Sif is gone, Loki removes the ribbon from the scroll and unrolls it. Drawn on the parchment in charcoal is a portrait of him, mid-laugh. Loki smiles as he admires it, having to blink away the tears that blur his vision. He had no idea that Sigyn could draw so well – not a single detail has been left out. He doesn’t know quite when it happens, but suddenly he is crying freely, as the full weight of Sigyn’s loss hits him once more.

The funeral is almost too much for Loki to bear. The finality of it is inescapable. Loki watches silently as the funereal barge floats by him, carrying Sigyn’s body. He can see her face beneath the veil, her closed eyes and peaceful expression. He almost wishes he hadn’t seen it, so his memories would be only of her smiles and laughter. Frigga stands by his side for the entire ceremony, reaching out to gently rest her hand on his shoulder as the lights are released into the sky. Sif and her mother, Freya, are the first to let theirs go, followed by Loki. Freya takes her daughter’s hand and squeezes it, while Thor puts an arm around Sif’s shoulders. Loki catches his brother’s eye for a moment, and Thor nods his head, wordlessly conveying his condolences.  
Loki stays long after the burning boat has gone over the edge of Asgard, Sigyn’s body scattering into light. He stays after everyone else has left, staring out at the horizon until the emerging daylight obscures Sigyn’s stars.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter V

“What have you done to him?” the Asgardian woman snarled at the two guards, who sensibly stepped out of the way as she strode over to Loki’s prone body. She immediately knelt down and began looking him over, examining every injury as closely and carefully as she could manage. The more Sigyn saw, the more her blood began to boil. She whipped her head back round to face the guards hovering nervously in the doorway.  
“That wasn’t a rhetorical question!” she snapped. “What have you done to him?”  
We, uh… there were orders to, well, interrogate him,” stammered the shorter of the two. He instantly regretted opening his mouth when he was met by the full fury of Sigyn’s glare. He knew hardly anything about the tall, auburn-haired woman, but his instincts told him she was certainly dangerous. His primitive brain began to scream at him to run as the Asgardian slowly rose to her feet and stalked towards him, making full use of her height to stare him down.  
“You… tortured…him?” she asked, terrifyingly quiet.  
Wisely, the guard didn’t answer.  
“We needed to know what he was up to,” came a steady voice from beyond the doorway. The guards, very much on edge, jumped at the sound. Director Fury gave them a nod and they gratefully ducked out of the room.  
“You have no right,” Sigyn hissed, staring Fury down.  
“I have every right. You Asgardian types have a track record of screwing things up on my planet, this one especially,” Fury scowled. “As it turns out, he’s here as some kind of punishment. I’d be more than happy to lock him up in a tiny little box and throw away the key, but Agent Hill suggested you might be able to keep an eye on him.”  
Sigyn bit back some choice comments, instead turning her gaze back to Loki. Arguing now would do him no good; the sooner she got him out of the cell, the better.  
“He comes with me, to Denver,” she said eventually. It was a statement rather than a question, but Fury nodded. His stern look, however, was a reminder to Sigyn to watch her tone.  
“There’s a plane waiting up top. You’ll have an armed guard the whole way there.”  
“Fine.”  
Sigyn leant down and wrapped one of Loki’s arms around her shoulders and tried to pull him to his feet. He stirred just enough to open but was leaning heavily on Sigyn.  
“Sigyn…?” he mumbled, still confused.  
“Shh, just hang in there,” she reassured him. She pressed her free hand against Loki’s stomach and started concentrating her healing abilities on the worst of his injuries. “We’re leaving.”

Loki slipped in and out of consciousness during the flight to Denver, gradually becoming more lucid as Sigyn’s healing magic worked its way through his body. Weeks’ worth of torture had left various injuries in various stages of healing – some incorrectly – and Sigyn knew she had to prioritise the worst and leave the rest for another time. Her abilities took a lot of energy, hers and the person she was working on. And Loki did not have much energy to spare.  
He had tried to ask questions in his more coherent moments, but Sigyn had shrugged them off. He needed to rest and save his energy, she had told him, and that was true. But she also wasn’t ready to get into the answers. Sigyn had never expected to see her friend again, and suddenly here he was. For now, that was enough. The tricky details could wait until later.

The SHIELD facility on the outskirts of Denver existed under the guise of an alternative energy research division; a solid cover for the strange equipment that was often transported in and out of the buildings.  
Sigyn was apprehensive to note the well-armed security waiting for them on the airstrip. She understood that SHIELD generally viewed Asgardians as dangerous, but the atmosphere was not one of caution, but rather fear and hatred. She knew Loki had been involved in the New York incident, although she wasn’t privy to the details, but this seemed extreme.  
Loki was conscious by this point, though Sigyn still had to support most of his weight. It was clear he was in no state to start any trouble, and yet every weapon was trained on either his heart or his head. Sigyn’s grip tightened defensively on her friend’s waist, trying her best to hide him from the crosshairs.

The two Asgardians were lead to the medical wing of the facility, much to Sigyn’s relief. Loki still had plenty of healing to do, and her energy was almost spent.  
Here, the security had lessened, and several of the doctors and orderlies greeted Sigyn with a friendly smile. She had been working with the Denver medical team for nearly two years now, and they were the closest thing to friends that she had on Midgard. They were physicians first and foremost, and treated Sigyn as one of their own.  
If they recognised Loki at all, they didn’t show it. Instead, they jumped straight into action, examining his remaining injuries and setting up an IV, adjusted according to Sigyn’s knowledge of Asgardian anatomy.  
“What are you doing? Get off me!” Loki’s voice was weak but still furious, squirming out of the reach of the nurse who was trying, unsuccessfully, to administer the IV drip.  
“Loki, it’s alright,” Sigyn reassured him, dropping into a chair by his bedside. “It’s medicine, to get your strength back up. Just relax, he’s trying to help.”  
Loki eyed the nurse suspiciously, but sat back and offered his arm anyway. He winced as the needle went in but said nothing, turning back to Sigyn with a confused look.  
“Sigyn? That’s definitely you?”  
She allowed herself a smile and held out her open palm for Loki to jab with his finger.  
“No tricks,” she promised. “Definitely me.”  
“But… how? You were dead.”  
Sigyn’s stomach tightened at his words, and she recalled his earlier comment about her funeral. Was that what everyone back home thought? That she was dead? Is that what Odin had told them? After what he had done? She forced herself to take a steadying breath.  
“All evidence to the contrary,” she answered, trying to make light of it, but Loki frowned. He knew her better than that.  
“Tell me.”  
“I was sent here by the Allfather,” she explained carefully. It wasn’t technically a lie, although it wasn’t exactly the truth either. “I’ve been working as a healer with SHIELD. I had no idea you were here until they called me in this morning.”  
“Agent Nightingale?”  
Sigyn glanced up at her SHIELD-assigned name, and found Dr Carrigan stood at the end of the bed. He had been her handler when she first arrived at the Denver facility, and was the Midgardian she most trusted.  
“We want to give the patient painkillers and a sedative, allow him to rest up,” he explained. “You get some sleep in the meantime, and we’ll look after him until you’re ready to work again.”  
“Is that okay?” Sigyn asked Loki. “If I’m going to patch you up we both need to get some energy back.”  
“It’s fine.” Loki could tell that Sigyn was nearly dead on her feet, and he welcomed the idea of painkillers.

Once the sedative was administered, Loki was asleep in seconds. Dr Carrigan helped Sigyn set up a temporary cot at Loki’s bedside, as she was reluctant to leave him after what SHIELD had done to him. Part of her was determined to stay awake so she could ensure he was safe, but she trusted the medical staff. Loki was their patient, and they would make sure no harm came to him.  
Sigyn lay back in the cot and let herself breathe, slow and deep, for the first time that day. So much had happened, and she barely had the time or energy to process any of it. But the most important part, as she had told herself earlier on the plane, was that her best friend was there with her. She knew the hows and whys would likely be painful – much like with her own story – but for now she wanted to hold onto that tiny bit of pure happiness.  
Sigyn had never expected to see another Asgardian again, let alone her closest friend. Allowing herself a smile, Sigyn reached across to squeeze Loki’s hand, partly just to reassure herself he was real. Even through the heavy cloud of sedatives, Loki’s fingers twitched around his friend’s hand for a moment.  
“See you in the morning,” Sigyn mumbled as she let her eyes close, content that Loki was still there. As she drifted into sleep, she was wrapped in visions of home.

The late afternoon sun is warm on Sigyn’s face as she strolls across the courtyard, arm in arm with her sister. Sif is happily retelling some of her latest exploits, embellishing her tale with elaborate gestures. Around them, preparations are beginning for the summer solstice celebrations, and the palace is a hive of activity. It’s Sigyn’s favourite time of the year, and she is eager for the festivities to begin, especially now that she has finished her gifts.  
“Lady Sigyn!”  
The sisters turn to see on of Queen Frigga’s handmaidens approaching, her arms full of colourful fabric.  
“Yes, Yrsa?” Sigyn answers, unlinking her arm from her sister’s.  
“My lady Queen Frigga has requested you meet with her to discuss the upcoming festivities. She is waiting for you in her chambers.”  
“Of course, Yrsa, I’ll go now. I’ll see you tonight, Sif – you can finish your story then!”  
Sigyn heads into the palace towards the Queen’s chambers, curious as to why she had been called on. Perhaps she wishes Sigyn to sing at the feast? The idea makes her both excited and nervous. Or perhaps it’s something to do with Loki? It isn’t uncommon for Frigga to seek Sigyn’s assistance in talking Loki into, or out of, certain things. Maybe she wants him to put on a display of his magic? The idea had been floated but before, but Loki hadn’t been keen-  
“…he doesn’t deserve such harsh words, Odin.”  
“Please, Frigga, do not lecture me!”  
Sigyn stops in her tracks outside the door to the Queen’s chambers, unsure whether to knock when there is clearly an argument going on inside. Her more sensible side tells her the best thing to do is to come back in a little while, and to mind her own business elsewhere until then. But her curiosity, ever keeping her on her toes, encourages her to listen in.  
“You can’t keep casting him in Thor’s shadow, it isn’t fair. He is no less talented than his brother,” the Queen is trying to reason.  
They are talking about Loki, Sigyn realises, and all common sense is pushed aside. She wants to know what’s being said about her friend.  
“Is that why you insist on teaching him your tricks?” the Allfather snaps back, perhaps a little more derisively than he intended. When the Queen replies, her voice is stern.  
“What Loki has is a rare gift,” she corrects him. “I’ve never known anyone to take to the magical arts so well. It would be a terrible waste not to nurture that talent. Both your sons are extraordinary in different ways, Odin – you should be proud of them equally.”  
“Loki is not my son!” the King hisses, accompanied by the heavy thud of a fist against wood.  
Sigyn’s stomach drops.  
It was common knowledge that the Allfather had begun to favour Thor as the two princes had grown older, but everyone assumed it was just because Thor was the better fighter, more like his father than Loki was. Thor was the first in line to the throne after Odin, so it made sense that the King would spend more time with his heir, training him to take his place.  
But this? It seems an absurd notion. Could Loki not be Odin’s son? How would such a thing come to pass?  
Sigyn leans in as close to the door as she dares, trying desperately to hear more over the pounding of her own heart.  
“Don’t,” Frigga says softly, her sadness audible. “Don’t say that, Odin. We took him in, raised him as our own. He is much our son as Thor is, and I will always love him as such.”  
“Do you think I’m not trying, Frigga?” The Allfather sounds desperate. “It was simpler, when they were children. Sometimes I could forget he wasn’t ours by birth. But now… every day he reminds me more and more of his father. Every day he seems more like Laufey.”  
Sigyn’s breath catches in her throat and she takes a stumbling step backwards. Loki, a Jotun? The son of King Laufey, no less? It couldn’t be. Why, by all the Aesir, would Odin have ever taken him in if that was true?  
Before she has time to process any of it, the Queen’s door is opened and the Allfather is standing in front of her. Her shocked expression is enough to tell him how much Sigyn has heard, and his face turns to stone. She knows too much.  
“Guards!” he calls sharply, and two armoured Asgardians appear at the end of the corridor. “Take her to the cells, not a word to anyone.”  
They don’t question their King, and so Sigyn is dragged away in stunned silence.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter VI

Loki was groggy and disoriented when he awoke, the last dregs of sedative still working their way out of his system. That aside, he felt better than he had in weeks.  
As his head began to clear, he set about trying to make sense of his surroundings. He was no longer in SHIELD’s cramped little cell; instead he was propped up on comfortable pillows, surrounded by clean white walls and strange equipment that beeped at intervals.  
An unusual tugging sensation in the crook of his elbow caught his attention as he tried to sit up straighter, drawing his eyes to the tube in his arm. Of course, the Midgardian medicine. Then that meant he hadn’t dreamt it: being taken from his cell, the hazy flight, and most importantly –   
Loki turned his head sharply to the right, and there she was. She was sprawled across a cot by his bedside, half her face obscured by a mess of auburn hair, but still unmistakeably Sigyn.  
Sigyn.  
She was alive and, against all logic, here on Midgard. The lump that had started to form in his throat was abruptly replaced with a boiling anger as he realised he had been lied to. Again. Was there anything in his life not built on Odin’s falsehoods?  
“You’re awake.”  
A SHIELD doctor that Loki vaguely recognised was suddenly standing at the foot of his bed, eyeing the screen on the steadily beeping machine.   
“I expected you to be under a little longer, but I suppose I didn’t account for the variations in Asgardian metabolisms,” the man continued, half to himself, as he scribbled on Loki’s chart. “How are you feeling?”  
“I’ve been worse,” Loki replied curtly. “But I’ve also been better,” he added with a pointed look at the needle in his arm.  
“Ah, yes. I can get that out for you if Agent Nightingale gives the go ahead.”  
“Nightingale?”  
“That would be me,” Sigyn mumbled, only vaguely awake. She shook herself to clear her head and placed her palm gently against Loki’s forearm.  
Her eyes clouded over with a warm, softly glowing gold hue as she engaged her gifts. Loki had seen it before, many times, but it still fascinated him. His powers, strong as they were, had never lent themselves to the precise art of healing magic. With minimal skin contact, Sigyn could scan every inch of his body for injury or illness, with a far greater degree of accuracy and detail than even the most cutting edge of Midgardian technologies.  
“You can take the drip out, but he’ll need something to eat pretty soon,” Sigyn announced, her eyes returning to their normal colour. “Nothing too heavy though.”  
The doctor gave a nod and proceeded to remove the IV drip from Loki’s arm. There was no need for a band aid, as Sigyn healed the puncture mark in less time than it took to blink.  
“Nightingale?” Loki asked again as the doctor retreated. Sigyn gave a short laugh.  
“SHIELD gave me the name, after a famous Midgardian healer. I’ve been told it’s a compliment.”  
“You’ve been here the whole time?”  
“On Midgard, yes. And working with SHIELD for most of that time. That way, they can make use of my skills and keep an eye on me at the same time – I think they still don’t quite trust me.”  
“Because they know you could beat them to a pulp if the fancy took you,” Loki commented.  
“Something like that, yeah,” Sigyn smiled. “How are you holding up, by the way?”  
“Decidedly better than when you found me, and my head’s starting to clear. How long until we can leave?”  
“Not until I say you’re ready to.”  
“You’re making a fuss, you can finish healing me elsewhere.”  
“Uh-uh,” Sigyn shook her head. “You stay right where you are until I’m certain you’re better.”  
“But-”  
“Healer’s orders.”  
Loki couldn’t help a grin – arguing with Sigyn like this was just like back on Asgard. She was known for being the most talented and also the most stubborn of all the healers. Even Thor and the Warriors Three, headstrong though they were, followed her instructions.  
“I have to ask…” Sigyn hesitated, twisting a piece of hair between her fingers. “You thought I was dead?”  
Abruptly serious, Loki sat up straighter and cleared his throat. Even though Sigyn was clearly alive and well, there was still an air of melancholy to the thought of her.  
“The day before summer solstice, I was called to the Throne Room. They told me you had fallen gravely ill and died during the night. Of course, I didn’t believe it, but everyone said the same thing. That you were gone before they could help you. And then I saw your body, at the funeral… I suppose it must have been an illusion, but I can normally tell the difference and it looked so real…” Loki stopped, choking on his words. “Sorry.”  
“Don’t be,” Sigyn smiled softly. A miasma of emotions was starting to bubble up inside her, but she tried to push it down. She had never considered that Odin would have told the truth – it would mean revealing what she had overheard about Loki – but she didn’t think he would go so far as to declare her dead. It wasn’t unheard of for healers and warriors to be sent across the Nine Realms to offer aid; Odin could have gotten away with saying the same of her. Clearly, she realised, her knowledge was of far more concern to Odin than she first thought.  
A sudden pang caught at Sigyn’s stomach as it occurred to her that Loki was still in the dark as to his past. She couldn’t break that news to him, not after all he had just been through. But how else to explain why Odin had hidden the truth of her banishment?  
“What is it?” Loki asked. He could tell better than anyone when Sigyn was upset, no matter how well she thought she could hide it.  
“It’s my fault,” Sigyn let slip before she had time to think. She had only spoken quietly, but Loki had heard.  
“Your fault?”  
Sigyn swallowed, and tried to recover herself. She couldn’t tell Loki, not now.  
“It’s my fault I got sent here, that I didn’t have a chance to tell you I was leaving,” she began, desperately wracking her brain for a believable lie. “I overheard the Allfather talking about how Thor was destined to be King, and all of that stuff that used to irritate us so much, and I just snapped. I started yelling at him to stop being so unfair to you, and that Thor wasn’t even interested in ruling in the first place, and that if he had even an ounce of brain matter then he’d be able to see you were the better choice, and…”  
“And he wasn’t happy about that, I imagine?”  
Sigyn gave a nervous laugh. Loki seemed to be buying it so far.  
“Not happy at all. Told me I had no business interfering, no right to talk to my King like that… Told me he wanted me gone. That I’d be sent out to put my healing to use somewhere else. He had me marched off to the Bifrost within minutes, he wouldn’t let me see you. If I’d had time to do something… But I was gone. I figured it would be a while before I was allowed back, but I never imagined he’d tell everyone I was dead. I guess he never meant for me to return.”  
“Odin’s pride is his downfall, it always has been,” Loki commented, his face twisting with anger. “For all he calls himself a King, he’s just a proud old fool.”  
Before he could say any more, an orderly appeared with a large tray.  
“There’s a bowl of soup and a glass of water for the patient, and some food for you as well, Agent Nightingale,” he explained, placing the tray on the table by Loki’s bedside.  
“Thank you, Ives,” Sigyn replied gratefully, suddenly realising how hungry she was.  
Loki eyed the Midgardian food suspiciously as the orderly left, poking at the soup with his spoon.  
“It’s fine, I promise,” Sigyn reassured him with a smile. “The food here is actually pretty good, as SHIELD facilities go.”  
Still unconvinced, Loki gave the soup a tentative stir. Rolling her eyes, Sigyn snatched the spoon away and ate a mouthful herself. She cleaned the spoon off with a napkin and handed it back to an amused Loki.  
“Tomato and basil, not bad,” she informed him. “Am I going to have to feed you myself? You need to eat.”  
“Alright, don’t push it,” Loki smiled, and obediently began to eat. Sigyn wasn’t wrong – the food was simple but not flavourless, and made a start on filling the hollow sensation in his stomach. In fact, he was half tempted to pick up the bowl and drink it down in one go, but he understood that he had to be careful. If he ate too much too quickly, he’d likely bring it back up again. Not something he was keen on doing.  
Sigyn, having no such concerns, was wolfing down some form of thin bread filled with various leaves and meats. Loki let out a laugh as he watched – Sigyn sometimes had a way of eating with a vigour that put Volstagg to shame, but thankfully with much less mess. At any rate, she had earned it; Loki knew how much her healing could drain her, especially if she had pushed herself up to her limit (which she was notorious for doing when her friends were involved).  
“Thank you again, for healing me,” he told her.  
“Yeah, well, normally I wouldn’t, but I still owe you for the Vanaheim incident,” Sigyn joked. She lay her hand on Loki’s arm again and gave him a quick check over. “Provided you actually do what I tell you, you should be alright to go by tomorrow,” she reassured him.  
Loki smiled, then abruptly stopped as his stomach sank.  
“Go where?” he asked solemnly.  
“Home,” Sigyn answered, like it was the simplest thing in the world.  
“Sigyn I can’t go home; they banished me here.” He nearly choked on the shame of it, and Sigyn’s face softened.  
“I know – well, I’d guessed. We don’t have to talk about it right now if you don’t want. And I didn’t mean home, I meant home with me. I have a place in the city, courtesy of SHIELD. It’s hardly a palace, but it’s a whole lot better than here. And there’s plenty of room.”  
Loki gave a sigh of relief – the thought of returning to one of SHIELDs cells was far from a pleasant one, and if he had to be stuck on Midgard, he knew he’d be a close to happy as he could manage with Sigyn around. And he was grateful that she wasn’t pressuring him to talk. He wasn’t ready to explain everything to her; that would mean admitting to his past mistakes, and to his true heritage. Sigyn was still in the dark, he realised. Still thought he was Odin’s son. And he wasn’t ready to have her think of him any differently. But she deserved to know a little, at least.  
“Thank you, Sigyn. I’ll pay you back someday,” he insisted, despite Sigyn’s dismissive wave of her hand. “Odin would be delighted to see this,” he added sarcastically. “Seeing as it’s his pride and stubbornness that landed us both here.”  
“Oh?”  
“I found out that he never meant for me to rule,” Loki explained, carefully selecting the pieces of the truth he was ready to share. “All that talk when we were children about Thor and I both being born to lead… it was all lies. I demanded answers, to know why he had lied to me for so long. I never really got them. After that, nothing was the same. I acted out, brought him shame, he said. So here I am, to learn from my mistakes and ‘redeem’ myself, it seems. Though I don’t know how long that’ll take, if it’s even possible.”  
“At least you have a chance to return,” Sigyn pointed out, her voice positive and reassuring but her eyes sorrowful. She wanted to be hopeful for her friend, but she knew that returning home was something she would never have a chance at.  
The unfairness of it made Loki’s blood boil. There and then, he decided that he wanted nothing to do with Odin’s ridiculous ‘redemption’ ideas.  
One way or another, he would find a way to get back to Asgard, and bring Sigyn with him. Then they could take their revenge against the Allfather - together.


End file.
